


The Concert

by FlameWolf



Series: My Strange Romance [6]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingering, Mostly an excuse to write sex., Public Sex, Smut, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameWolf/pseuds/FlameWolf
Summary: As their relationship deepens, Manson decides to take his favorite fan on tour with him.  What happens on said tour is all too embarrassing for Cherise and yet she can't seem to get enough.





	The Concert

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never meant Marilyn Manson or anyone from his band. This is a work of fiction, just for fun and no profit will be made from this.
> 
> Author’s Note: Ahem, yes, well... uhhhh... I just wanted to write smut for Manny okay? Been a fan of his for a long time and there just isn’t enough love. *hides*
> 
> Wight Spider (c) Marilyn Manson

    As she found herself next to a mohawked man otherwise known a Madonna Wayne Gacy or Pogo to his friends, Cherise found herself  feeling more than just a little stunned by where she had ended up.  So much had happened in the months following her birthday.  For one, she and Manson went on many more high profile dates; inevitably causing the tabloids to start flying.  While he still hadn’t made a public announcement about their relationship, he made no efforts to hide or deny her presence in his life.  So, when he asked her to go on tour with him, she had agreed without hesitation.  She had been so excited about seeing one of his concerts close up that she had completely forgotten to take his band members into account.

    Needless to say, her first encounter with them had been... interesting.  Tim Skold, John 5 and Ginger Fish seemed to be the only sane ones.  Pogo and Twiggy, on the other hand, seemed to be varying degrees of insane.  If given a choice between the two, she would go with the switch guitarist.  At least he was predictable, albeit a bit strange.  Gacy was an entirely different animal.  He seemed to do things simply for his own amusement.  On top of that, the man was wildly intelligent and he used his brain power to be more creative with his strangeness.

    The first moment she had been introduced to the keyboardist, he had given her a grin before scooping her up in his arms and running around the house with her while cackling.  She had been so surprised, she hadn’t even thought to defend herself; just watched the others chase behind the nimble male as he jumped over her furniture.  The chase had somehow ended up with him perched up on the bannister to her stairs, her body dangling from his left arm as he grunted like King Kong.  It was only the quick action of everyone that had brought him down, Manson yanking her to safety just seconds before he was tackled.  The entire time, the madman laughed as if this was the most fun he had in years.

    To be sitting next to him after all of that was a bit intimidating to say the least.  The fact that he kept looking at her out of the corner of one eye and grinning certainly didn’t help.  At least the singer to her right was taking on a more protective role, wrapping an arm around her and giving his bandmate a warning glare every now and again.  “Don’t worry, he’ll calm down a bit once he gets used to you,” mumbled a soothing baritone in her ear, the scent of something earthy filling her nose just as a pair of soft lips brushed her temple.

    “Oh you know me better than that Manny pants!  Once I get used to someone, I only take it as a liberty to go even further,” Pogo crooned, waggling his eyebrows while Ginger ran a hand down his acne scarred face.

    “Gacy, please.  Do you want to scare off this poor girl?” the drummer sighed before turning to give the obviously nervous woman a kind smile.

    “Sorry your first meeting with the group had to be so... chaotic.  Not all of us are as insane,” he continued before planting himself between her and the mohawked psycho.  Something Cherise was honestly grateful for.  Of all the members she had met, Pogo was the one who made her the most nervous.

    It was at that point the keyboardist decided to get to his feet and take off his shirt, whipping it over his head like a lasso as he took a wide stance in front of Ginger.  Before the drummer could even move, the grinning madman was straddling his lap and giving an impromptu lap dance.  “Oh good Christ,” gasped an utterly stunned Cherise, her cheeks going a bright pink as she averted her gaze.

    “Okay you two, knock it the fuck off,” came another voice as she burrowed her burning face into her boyfriend’s chest.

    “It wasn’t my fault!” came a protest from Ginger, making the mortified female giggle just slightly.

    “Yeah, yeah just take it elsewhere.  Poor thing will probably never want to come on another tour again at this rate,” continued the lightly accented voice from earlier, light enough to sound like a girls but holding enough masculinity to make it androgynous.  Daring a peek, the twenty-nine year old saw the other member of the band she found a bit strange.

    Giving her a kind smile as Pogo carted off a heavily protesting Ginger, Twiggy Ramirez sat beside her; smoothing his pink dress as his dark eyes glittered.  “Are you sure its okay to leave poor Ginger at the mercy of... him?” whispered a shy voice, a slight grin twitching her black painted lips as she turned to face the odd guitarist.

    “Yeah, he’ll be fine.  Gacy won’t do anything too bad.  Besides, you looked like you needed a bit of a break,” Ramirez pointed out, before giving the singer holding her a saucy grin.

    The normally confident man slumped just slightly, huffing a bit before shaking his head.  “I also should take the time to talk to you about the performance.  I don’t just want ya to hang out backstage.  I have a part planned out for you in the spotlight with me,” he announced, the unexpectedness of it making everything freeze for just a moment.  As her heart lurched in her chest, the crimson banged femme ran what he had just said in her head in slow motion.

    “Y-you want me up there with you?”  squeaked out of her as it felt like all the oxygen had left the room.  Images of the concerts she had seen filled her head, the press of thousands of people chanting for her lover.  The cheers quickly turned sour as she strode onto the stage, the spotlight shining on her.  Adoration turned to outrage, cries for her blood beginning to echo through the huge chamber.

    “Of course,” husked a smooth baritone in her ear, the scent and sound of him sending a shiver down her spine and effectively relaxing her.

    “You’re my girlfriend.  It’s time we make it more than official.  Besides, I’ve heard you sing along to my songs before.  You’ll be fine,” continued a voice that had haunted her dreams since her teenage years, drawing a soft sigh from her lips as she practically melted into the warm body behind her.

    A quiet chuckle vibrated her back as a pair of lips meets the top of her right ear.  Painfully thin, protective arms wrapped tightly around her body, long fingered hands coming to rest on the slight paunch of her tummy.  All at once, the female found herself feeling a bit subconscious about her body type.  While she wasn’t morbidly obese, she wasn’t what someone would call skinny.  Despite any amount of diet or exercise she tried or her mother had forced onto her, a layer of pudge had clung to her like shit to a blanket.  It had only been well into her adult life that she had learned that the system that had been used to measure her own weight had been extremely flawed and outdated.

    As it turned out, the body mass index had caused more than its fair share of unhealthy weight habits.  A new scale had been developed sometime after she had entered her twenties and, at least according to that, the amount of fat she had on her body was perfectly acceptable for her height and body type.  Still, none of this had erased all the things that had been falsely been drilled into her skull throughout her childhood.  To this day, she still had trouble as seeing her size and body as normal.  Now she would be in front of thousands if not millions of people, all of them just judging her for the fact she was dating their idol.

    Shuddering, the twenty-nine year old curled into the chest of her boyfriend to seek comfort; breathing in the slightly musky scent that made up his personal perfume.  She could feel his taller figure bending over hers as a rough coo came from deep inside his chest.  “Shhh, it’ll be just fine babe.  Nothing bad’s gonna happen to ya, I promise,” purred a deep voice just before she felt herself being shifted.

    “We’ll be in the back guys,” barked the voice as her hands scrabbled for purchase on a cotton shirt.

    Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed the sound of his racing heart and the smell of cologne to lull her racing mind.  This cowering heap wasn’t who she was!  She was stronger than this and she was damned if she would let her petty fears get in the way of the best night of her life!  So, gritting her teeth with determination, Cherise forced herself to look up at the man carrying her.  Concerned brown and whitish blue met gray-blue and she felt shame wash over her as a door closed somewhere in the background.  “Sorry about that back there.  I don’t even know what happened.  I just got... scared,” came out of her as her tongue flicked out to wet dry lips.

    A dark head darted down to hers, a warm mouth sucking her tongue into it before she could catch her breath.  “Don’t apologize.  Everyone gets stage fright their first time,” rasped a baritone from far away as the kiss broke and she was allowed a quick gulp of cool air.

    “But this is well beyond any normal circumstance.  You’re going on stage as the girlfriend of a rock star.  You have every right to be scared out of your mind,” continued the guttural growl masquerading as a voice.  Then rough hands were gripping the soft skin of her face, drawing her out of her daze enough to focus on the face of her famous lover.

    “Do you trust me kitten?” murmured a question that buzzed into the marrow of her bones and sobered her immediately.

    Shaking herself, the panting female peered through the gaps of her blood red bangs as she tried to slow her heart enough to answer.  After all she had been through with him, Cherise knew this question was far from innocent.  He was asking if she truly trusted him and the longer she waited to answer, the worse it would look.  In fact, hurt was already beginning to settle into the expressive orbs fixed on her.  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and allowed everything to fall away; leaving her with the slow cadence of her heart drumming steadfastly in her ears.

    After a few moments, she achieved the stillness she needed in order to answer Manson in the fashion he desired.  Opening her eyes slowly, she allowed a lazy smile to quirk pink lips as a soft breath ushered out of her.  Bodies shifted and somehow she ended up pressed along the length of his body as she gave him the most loving kiss she had ever given him.  It was almost shy, the male below her going stiff as his breath stuttered in his bony chest.  Breaths mingled as her mouth maintained a gentle but insistent pressure.

    Gradually, Manson’s breathing began to speed up; his hands twitching at his sides as if unsure of what to do with them.  Smirking internally, Cherise allowed her tongue to slip out ever so slightly to lick his lipstick coated upper lip.  In that instant it was like lightning had struck him, every muscle in his body tensing as he jolted almost instinctually.  Shaking palms came to rest on her back as his breathing became ragged gasps but he did nothing to take control from her, despite the twitching of his fingers telling her he very much wanted to do so.

    Angling her upper body slightly, she allowed her tongue to flick across his upper lip once again; getting a less intense version of the reaction before.  A soft groan came from somewhere below and the hands tightened slightly as something began to prod at the inside of her inner right thigh.  Allowing a soft moan to escape her as a pleasurable shudder snaked its way up her spine, she broke the kiss just enough to exhale on his lips before giving them an oh so gentle bite.  A heated whisper of her name is the only verbal response she receives, the hardness against her thigh getting thicker and longer as she continued.

    Without her noticing, one of her hands has snaked up to tangle in the odd faux-hawk the star now sported; the contact with his silky locks making her jolt slightly in shock.  Shifting her gaze slightly to see where her hand was, she gave him a small smile as she clenched her fingers just slightly; inwardly marvelling at the thickness as she rubbed her nose along his.  Seemingly impatient, Manson gave the underside of her chin a few needy kisses; talented hands moving to cup the orbs of her ass.  A gasp tinged with a giggle came from her mouth before she pulled away from him to give him a playfully admonishing glare.

    Mismatched eyes gazed up at her pleadingly while black stained lips pouted, begging her to continue.  Chuckling quietly, Cherise bent to allow her lips to meet his once more; the content sigh that reached her ears in response effectively melting her heart.  Murmuring a quiet apology she was certain she wouldn’t need, she licked his lips for permission to enter.  As soon as his mouth was open her tongue was caressing his in ways she wasn’t even aware it could move as she allowed her true emotions to shine through.  Every ounce of love, trust and just plain awe she held for this man poured out of her and she could only hope he could feel it.

    For endless moments, the idol didn’t move; didn’t even seem to breath as she continued the kiss.  Just as she started to pull away, she felt two hands frantically grab her face to hold it in place as a body tensed and moved beneath her.  Then he was sitting up, his tongue surging into her mouth as thin but strong arms wrapped around her.  Opening her eyes out of shock, she was greeted with tears flowing down a pale face as the much taller celebrity bent her backwards.  Soon enough he was on top of her, his lanky body pressing into hers as hot tears began to patter onto her face.

    Before she could push away to ask him what was wrong, the overwrought singer was breaking the kiss to murmur a soft thank you before his lips met hers in a much more gentle, almost reverent manner.  Once again his hand were cupping her face, his lips meeting hers over and over in those strange little pecks as he repeated his gratitude like a mantra.  “I love you kitten, so much more than you could ever realize.  I assure you, you’re not wasting your trust, your adoration on me,” husked his unsteady voice, one of his legs parting her thighs so he could rest his junction against hers.  Even through both of their jeans she could feel his erection, a moan escaping her against her will as he pressed hard against her; a low growl rumbling from somewhere deep inside his chest.

    A hot mouth and sharp teeth met the junction of her neck, his tongue laving up along her pulse to stop at the lobe of her left ear.  Unfortunately, that was where things stopped; her lover pulling away with a regret filled sigh.  “As much as I would love to give you my response to your very... effective demonstration, I need to keep a bit of an edge for tonight.  Having some sexual tension adds something special to the show,” came a surprisingly neutral sounding purr that sounded far away as she lay there in a daze, trying to figure out just what had happened.  Sitting up, Cherise looked at the man across the room from her through vermillion colored bangs.

    Teetering somewhere between incredulous and pissed, she simply shook her head as a huff of laughter blew through her nose.  As much as she wanted to be peeved he had left her hanging like that, she could see the outline of his own suffering quite clearly in the confines of his black jeans.  It was obvious he wouldn’t have stopped unless he had an extremely good reason.  Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to tease him and she was feeling just the slightest bit vindictive about being left in the lurch like that.  So, with a downright frightening grin on her face, Cherise walked toward Manson; looking every bit like a cat stalking an unsuspecting mouse.

    The oblivious male had his back turned to her as he rummaged in his dresser for bits of his stage costume.  He was just about to turn back around when she was pressing against his back, something about the feeling of his muscles pushing into her tits making her shudder down to her toes.  With a slow sigh, she wrapped her arms around his thin waist; allowing the tips of her fingers to rest just above his pubic bone.  If she dipped them just a little lower she would be in contact with his erection, a fact both parties were aware of.  Taking in a deep, unsteady breath, the much taller male turned just slightly so he could look at her.

    When he raised a shaved brow, she merely gave him a smirk worthy of himself as she used his distraction to sneak her fingers past the hem of his pants.  As her fingertips brushed the beginnings of his pubes, a shudder went through his powerful frame as he sucked in a harsh breath.  Resting her cheek against his back, she smiled wider; looking almost wicked as her hand moved down to brush the very tips of her fingers along his rock hard erection.  Hissing, Manson spun on his heel to break contact; a soft sound of warning escaping him as he gripped her wrists in his hands.  Whitish-blue and brown met stormy blue as he gave her the sternest glance she had ever seen.

    Thankfully he softened when he saw the coy grin on her face but he didn’t loosen his grip on her hands.  “You’re playing with fire kitten,” husked out a voice so deep and raspy that it sounded like a different person was talking through him at the moment.  Then he was pulling her closer, bringing her hands up to brush his painted lips against her knuckles.

    “You’ve only seen a small part of me sweetheart.  I can be a bit... dangerous under the right circumstances.  I’m not sure you’re ready to see that part of me just yet,” continued the strange voice that seemed to come from the bottom of his diaphragm, his intense eyes locked on hers to ensure she was listening to what he was saying.

    Heart drumming hard against her ribs, Cherise found her mouth had gone desert dry as a slight bit of fear began to tingle her skin.  As a long time fan, she was well aware of his infamous temper.  And yet, he didn’t seem to be trying to warn her about that.  His pupils were dilated and his breathing was accelerated, every line of his body tense as he continued to stare down at her.  It seemed like violence was the furthest thing from his mind, leaving one other possibility.  A possibility that had her blushing as soon as the realization washed over her.

    Besides his hot temper, this man was also known for his rather violent, sexual acts against his bandmates on stage.  She had even seen a few instances herself, albeit mostly on a DVD she owned.  From what she saw, he had to have been extremely sexually frustrated to perform such acts.  Looking up at him now, she felt the same energy rolling off him as he slowly released her.  “I appreciate the playfulness but I’m a bit... on edge right now.  Prodding at certain... instincts wouldn’t be wise,” he finished, his voice still more of a growl than human speech as he pulled away to walk toward the door.

    “Get dressed now.  We only have a few more minutes until we reach the concert hall.  Just... remember how much you trust me and don’t be scared,” he added, not turning to look at her as he walked out and closed the door slowly behind himself.

    Blinking, Cherise wondered briefly just what he meant by what he said when everything she knew about him as a performer slammed into her like a semi.  Staggering slightly where she stood, the young artist stared at the closed door as if afraid it was going to attack her.  Yet another thing her lover was famous for was his extremely intense stage persona.  Everything about him was magnified by 1,000 as soon as he stepped foot on the stage.  Including his already explosive temper.  The thought of experiencing all of this first hand brought back her earlier anxiety full force and she found herself locked in place for a few seconds.

    Still, under the terror, she felt the faintest thread of lust that made her feel more than just a little embarrassed.  Shaking herself free of her stupor, she took a deep breath before looking around the room for what Manson had set aside for her costume.  It was then something extremely critical occured to her.  She had no idea where he would have put something like that, let alone what it would look like.  On top of that, Manson owned several effeminate articles of clothing.  It would be absurdly easy to mistake something of his for what he actually wanted her to wear.

    Thankfully, that was the moment Twiggy decided to peek into the room; smiling at her like she was some lost lamb he was here to help.  Sad thing was, he was most likely to know exactly what to look for as well as how to put it on.  Also, from the looks of him, the cross-dressing man would be able to help her with her make-up.  Lipstick and eye shadow was as far as she would usually go, meaning all other forms of cosmetics were utterly alien to her.  “Seems Bri forgot to point out what costume was yours.  Also you seem like you could use a little help as well as a pep talk from someone who’s worked with the man for years,” purred the dark skinned guitarist as he slowly came into the room and shut the door behind him.

    “Yeah, I can’t really make heads or tails of what’s meant for him and what’s meant for me.  Also, I’m a bit of a tomboy so tips with make-up are appreciated,” Cherise sighed, angling her slightly nervous gaze towards the floor.

    Needless to say, when a pair of hands landed on her shoulders out of nowhere she nearly shot to the ceiling.  Looking up, she saw the concerned face of Jeordie White hovering over her.  A comforting aura poured off him despite his dress and make-up making him look a bit like a demented doll from Hell’s toybox.  Leaning into him despite herself, she found herself telling this practical stranger about all of her fears; including the ones about her famous boyfriend.  By the time she was finished, he was petting her hair like her mother would; cooing meaningless platitudes of comfort.  “I know just how ya feel darlin’.  Everyone’s first time is stressful and you’re going to be on stage with the reflection of everything Manny hides from you.  I would be scared if I was you too,” he whispered, before pulling away so he could look her in the face.  Meeting his earnest, brown eyes, Cherise found herself feeling ridiculous for even feeling the slightest bit of fear toward the man they were currently talking about.

    “But there’s one thing you need to remember darlin’ and it’s the simple reality that man out there loves you.  Given the fact you’re a fan of his, you should know just how much that statement means.  He doesn’t love much, doesn’t trust much but you’re different.  You’ve gotten past that damnable wall he’s put up.  He’s the last person on this green Earth that would hurt you,” Twiggy assured before pressing a weirdly matronly kiss on her forehead, leaving her feeling both comforted and a bit violated.

    Then he was letting her go, bouncing away from her backwards with a smile on his clean shaven face.  “Now!  Let’s get you all dolled up for your big night!  Fortunately for you, I know exactly how Bri-Bri wants you to look,” he twittered in a discomforting facsimile of a female voice before flouncing off to a closet on the far side of the room.  As the almost mischievous looking musician pulled open the faux wood door, she caught her first look at what she would be expected to wear and felt her jaw drop open in shock.

    “Oh fuck no!  There is no way in Hell you are going to get me into _that_ in front of a concert hall full of people!” she screamed, all caring about who heard her protest flying out the window.

    “Sorry Darlin’ but you don’t have much choice,” sing-songed the pink clad man, his dark eyes glittering with an inner glee as he took out what could only loosely be called clothes.

    Outside, Pogo was nearly in hysterics; his laughter ringing throughout the main room of the trailer while his fellows put on their own outfits.  “Aw man, she’s got spirit I gotta give her that,” the insane male gasped, tears of merriment making black run down his white painted cheeks.

    “How much you wanna bet she’s gonna wind up in it anyway?” John 5 intoned, his voice sounding almost bored as he used a compact mirror to put on bright red lipstick.

    “Wouldn’t be much of a bet.  We all saw how she was with the boss.  She’d do anything to make him happy,” Ginger replied quietly, smearing on a streak of white facepaint.

    Tim only rolled his eyes as he forcefully smeared his blood red lipstick across his left cheek.  The silent swede had no doubts at all about what would happen and felt no need to add to the useless conversation.  Then the big man himself was exiting the small bathroom in the main body of the trailer, the aura he gave off effectively killing off any further talking.  His broad shoulders were squared and his hands curled into fists at his sides, mismatched eyes fairly igniting with his fury.  Moving forward with the quick, jerky steps of a man highly agitated, Manson made his way to the built in bar; stopped to place his clenched hand on the counter and lean.

    Rapid, harsh huffs left the thin man, his breathing greatly restricted by the corset he wore and bringing him dangerously close to hyperventilation.  Behind the obviously perturbed rocker, his small family were having a silent conversation amongst themselves while Pogo simply cackled.  As per usual, the unfortunate drummer was chosen to be the mediator; his protests soundly ignored as they shoved him toward their boss.  “Uh, Marilyn... is... is something wrong?” the reluctant mediator whispered, almost as if he was afraid of being heard.

    The towering celebrity only stiffened, turning his head slowly so he was glaring behind him out of the corner of one eye.  “Gee Einstein, what makes you say that?” he snarled, black nails scratching the surface of the faux marble.  Then he was slumping, a ragged sigh escaping him before rather aggressive sounding laughter began to pour out of him.

    “Lil minx decided she wanted to play with me a little after a heated make out session,” came a confession that only added to the tension in the room.  Being his band mates for years, all of them knew he often went weeks without sex before a show just to add a little ‘oomph’ to his performance.

    The same couldn’t be said for this tour.  He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Cherise, taking her to the back on the first day of their journey.  It had only been today that he had been able to stave off temptation and not fuck her.  A fact that surely had to be taking its toll on the shaking performer.  “It was hard enough not to make love to her after...  And then she has to go and...  Heh, as a long time fan she should be a bit more cautious but she couldn’t have any idea just what kind of preparations I make before each concert,” continued the distraught rock star, straightening before seeming to stare at the line of booze bottles in front of him.

    “Erm, well the sexual tension should be good for what you have planned.  Not that I can say I approve,” Ginger tentatively pointed out, hoping to bring his friend and leader back from the brink of insanity.

    “Heh, yeah.  I’m a little worried about that too but...  I think she’ll be into it,” rasped the skeletal male before pushing away from the counter to turn to face his men.

    “For now, let’s get things ready.  Our roadies will be pulling up to the van any minute and we need to make sure our instruments are in tune,” he ordered, steely determination shining in his heterochromic gaze.

    Cherise could only stare at the scraps barely covering her with a mixture of horror and mortification.  On her torso, she wore a black corset decorated with crimson markings that her bosom practically spilled out of the top of.  The bottom of the contraption only came down to the top of her belly button, leaving her feeling more than a little exposed.  The shorts weren’t much better, barely having enough denim to be called shorts at all.  The ‘legs’ ended just below the bottom of her ass, a tiny strip of material barely covering her nethers.  Her legs themselves were covered with black fishnet, ebony platforms gracing them from the knees down.

    Right now, Jeordie was helping her pull on some matching, fingerless arm warmers as she put on lipstick.  As soon as he was done, the giddy musician was moving in front of her to help with the rest of her face.  It took only seconds and when he moved away so she could look in the mirror she couldn’t help but stare in disbelief.  What she saw reflected back at her looked like some sort of gothic hooker.  Groaning, she hung her head as she tried to fight off the dread settling in the pit of her stomach.  While she normally wouldn’t wear anything near this revealing, she had to admit it made her look both sexy and intimidating.  And it gave her a handy mask to hide behind if she wanted.  Terror turning to confidence, Cherise found herself smirking.  She would do her boyfriend proud and show him just how much of a badass rock star she could be.

    Things had been tested, tweaked and prepared to perfection, leaving them to wait in a back room until it was time for the opening number.  Unfortunately, waiting with someone like Marilyn Manson was a bit like staying in the room with a restless, pissed off tiger.  The man was pacing the room like a father awaiting the birth of his first child, a muscle steadily twitching in his cheek as he moved.  Everyone watching this stayed wisely silent with the exception of Gacy who was currently giggling to himself as he leaned against the door frame.

    “The lil miss a bit late?” cooed the mohawked terror, his grin only widening when their violent band leader charged him.

    As the pair were rolling around on the ground, an amused voice cleared its throat to get their attention.  Freezing with Pogo pinned to the floor with Manson’s hands around his neck, the two looked up to see a certain guitarist smiling down at them with a raised eyebrow.  “Did I miss the party?” teased the dreadlocked transvestite, chuckling when his former lover shot to his feet.

    “Is Cherise....?” the perturbed super star began, only to be cut off by a single hand motion from Twiggy.

    “She’s right here Bri and she seems to have a bit of a surprise for you,” the feminine male purred, tipping a saucy wink as he moved into the room to reveal the woman behind him.

    There, in the doorway, stood a person that barely resembled the woman before; in both attitude and appearance.  A wild cat smirked at him from familiar eyes as the woman sauntered into the room as if she owned the place.  “What’s the matter Mare?  You look like a cat ate your tongue,” husked a deeper, more seductive version of Cherise’s voice as she closed the distance between her and the singer.  She stopped mere inches from him, allowing her fingertips to brush under his chin.

    “K-kitten?” gasped the stunned vocalist just before his stage persona rushed forward to devour her lips as he crushed her against her body.

    After endless moments, he broke the kiss to trail his lips along her neck; animalistic noises escaping him as his hand gripped and loosened on her back.  The group of men watching knew better than to even move but that didn’t stop a certain keyboardist from being his antagonistic self.  With a strangely evil expression on his face, the grinning madman began moved a grand total of one inch toward the pair.  This seemed to set off the emaciated male’s protective instincts, his mismatched eyes shooting up to lock on the male as a low snarl ripped from his chest.

    It was a sound no human being had any right making, causing even the deranged keyboardist to pause and put his hands up to show he meant no harm.  “Don’t _fuck_ with me Madonna Wayne!” hissed the pure id of the man who had put together this band to begin with.

    “She’s mine and no one gets to touch her or even get near her unless _I_ say so,” he continued, his voice deep, imposing and gruff.  He looked almost ready to rush forward to kill anyone that opposed him, only a pair of small hands in the center of his chest stopping his forward movement.

    “Easy there Manson.  No one is gonna take your empress away,” whispered a soothing voice, drawing his attention instantly.

    For just a second, it seemed like he would move forward anyway.  Then he was curling himself around the smaller female against him.  “No... no, of course not...  None of them would be stupid enough to try my Vermillion Empress,” he rasped, his voice slowly changing as he came back to himself.

    “Heh, I like that.  Much better than what I came up with.  It was a play off the ‘Queen of Hearts’,” responded an amused coo from somewhere in his chest, drawing a strangled chuckle from him as he burrowed his nose in the crown of her dual colored hair.

    It was then a rather hesitant knock came from the area of the door, jolting Manson back to himself in an instant; the intimidating male straightening as he pushed her behind him.  Peeking around the tense male, Cherise was amused to see a rather mousy man cowering in the entry.  A person so timid he couldn’t possibly hurt a flea, let alone her.  “U-uh.... Mr. Warner, sir... th-there’s five minutes til show time,” stammered the nervous messenger before he scampered away, probably afraid something was going to be thrown at him.

    “For fuck’s sake.  It never ends,” the ‘Pale Emperor’ hissed before he was taking her arm and dragging her along behind him.

    In a whirl, she found herself standing on the edge of the open stage; the band moving into place while the curtain was down.  Even Manson was out there, adjusting his mic one last time while she gathered her courage.  Having her persona planned out and ready didn’t help her confidence as she heard the mass of people that were currently hidden from her.  This would be her first time doing _anything_ in front of a crowd.  To say she was petrified would be an understatement.  Using some unknown strength she had buried deep inside her, she pushed her nerves down and forced the character she had developed to the forefront.

    A sneer curled her upper lip as she marched onto the stage as if she had done this a million times before.  The man she was heading toward only grinned crookedly, not taking his focus from the stand he was fiddling with.  It was as if he had known all along she would come on stage with no problems, his cocksure grin making her long to smack him.  “Good girl.  Keep close.  We’ll be sharing,” he ordered while not looking at her.

    “Hmph.  You’re lucky I kinda like ya lover boy.  Otherwise I might take exception to how much of an asshole you’re acting like right now,” came out of her, stunning them both with the forwardness.

    Blushing slightly, Cherise forced herself to focus on allowing this persona to just happen.  Besides, it wasn’t as if her lover wouldn’t be able to tell it was just a character.  A warm chuckle to her left sent a jolt of shock through her entire system and her eyes shifted despite herself.  The ‘Antichrist Superstar’ was looking at her like he was having the time of his life while simultaneously seeming to want to punish her for her insolence.  “Mouthy little thing when you’re in character.  Just makes everything all the sweeter,” he rumbled, winding his left arm around her waist to pull her close as the curtain began to rise and the lights came up.

    Temporarily blinded by the bright lights, Cherise was nearly deafened by the cheers of the gathered mob.  Yet, amongst the roar, there were some sounds of confusion due to her presence.  Before she could even think about what was going on, the star of the show was taking the voice enhancing device off its metal stand.  “Alright ya sonsabitches!  I got someone very important I’d like to introduce to ya!  This little lady right here is my girlfriend,” he declared, a strange silence following his words as the audience mulled over his words.

    Just as some hostile whispers began to ripple through the gathered mass the drums began to start a familiar beat, the guitars and bass kicking in along with the keyboard while Manson began to sing.  “I'll build you a shiny dollhouse or church,” he began, his voice rough with emotion as he moved her to stand in front of him.  Faced with the rounded end of the microphone in her face, Cherise licked her lips before the ‘Empress’ took over and she began to sing along.

    “For you to shrink into a tiny wight spider,” she crooned, her voice pleasant with just a hint of roughness to it.  The man behind her rumbled in approval before he continued.

    “And gorge on horrid memories with conceited wings,” they sang in unison, the scantily clad female jumping slightly as a hand grasped her left hip.

    “Smother the past in a cocoon for me and I’ll help you hide all the bodies,” crooned the performer towering above her as she did her best to ignore the hand that was running along the material that made up the hem of her ‘shorts’.  Then he was moaning twice in her ear, his hardened member grinding into her butt as she did her best just to continue following along as if nothing was happening.

    “I'll possess you but I don't need you to be another one of my possessions,” they sighed together, his end of the lyrics sounding almost directed at her as his wandering hand travelled to the rear of her barely there ‘Daisy Dukes’.

    “I don't need you to be my possession,” they sang out in perfect chorus, his finger tickling the holes of the fishnet she wore while the music pounded behind them.

    “And I won't make you kneel for anyone but me,” belted out from above her as a hot hand cupped her narrowly covered sex, making her gasp soundlessly from simple shock.

    “I won't promise a star. _stroke_ Don't promise your soul. _grind_ We’ll say that we don't believe,” husked the star that held her as her mind blanked and she forgot she was supposed to be singing.  To be fair, it was hard to think at the best of times when Manson decided to be seductive.  Right now it felt like straight sexual energy was pouring over her, making it hard just to keep enough wits about her not to moan into the mic when he moved against her.

    “I'll keep you wet when the world is dry,” sighed a raspy baritone in her ears as her mouth mindlessly formed the same words and spewed them forth.  It was then she felt him slipping his fingers past the tiny strip of denim to stroke at her panties.

    As soon as she felt them, it was all she could do to stay in character and not let on that anything was going on.  “You can see them coming, I'll take you back inside,” husked her voice as he pressed his index and middle fingers against her covered opening.

    “If they came for answers I'll wrap my claws round your mouth tight,” her unpredictable lover growled from above her as she kept pace, his teeth landing on her neck in a possessive bite while his fingers played with the edges of her panties.

    Then they were slipping past the silky material, the rough tips playing with her sensitive folds.  Her eyes widened as a small squeak escaped her, a sound easily drowned out by his commanding voice as the song proceeded.  “We'll consume each other until there's nothing left to hide and they can all drown in our blood,” boomed from above her, two thin digits entering her passage and scissored open.  Her mouth popped open in a silent ‘o’, all thoughts of performing fleeing as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her.

    “I'll possess you but I don't need you to be another one of my possessions,” screamed the trademark voice as the blessed fingers moved away from her eager womanhood.

    Vaguely aware for him yanking her shorts from behind, the dazed female did her best to catch her breath.  Right up until she felt something very familiar pressing into her slit.  Turning her head slightly, she had just enough time to comprehend he was going to fuck her on stage before her was entering her in one, swift motion.  “I don't need you to be my possession,” cooed the voice above her as she braced her hands on her knees and stared out at the audience with an utterly stunned expression.  Then he was moving out slowly, causing sparks of pleasure to scamper through her bloodstream as she pulled herself upright.

    “And I won't make you kneel for anyone but me,” rang out and she took a deep breath and forced herself to join in.  Despite how humiliating something like this should feel, Cherise only felt exhilaration as Manson began a slow but steady rhythm of thrusts.  To anyone in front of them, it would look like he was just humping her.  Which the audience approved of from the sounds of the catcalls.

    “I won't promise a star. _thrust_ Don't promise your soul. _thrust swivel_ We’ll say that we don't believe,” echoed into the stadium, a fine sweat covering both their foreheads as he continued his slow but very deliberate pace.

    “And I won't make you kneel for anyone but me,” the pair belted, his left hand landing on her corresponding hip as he began to thrust even faster; making it a bit hard to catch her breath.  Not only did it feel incredible given the foreplay from before but he was hitting all the right spots, giving Cherise the extreme urge to call his name in sexual satisfaction.

    “I won't promise a star. _thrust_ **_thrust_ ** Don't promise your soul. **_THRUST_ ** _thrustthrust_ We’ll say that we don't believe,” the rocker rumbled, sounding almost breathless as his jaw tensed from the effort of not just dropping the mic and straight out fucking her.

    “We’ll say that we don’t believe,” she screamed out, a slight husky tone to her intonation as his tip hit something inside her that made her see stars.  At this rate it wouldn’t be much longer for either of them and she got the feeling her lover wanted to last at least until the end of the song.

    “We can't haunt this home,” they howled out as the band crescendoed, Manson pulling out until the tip of him rested against her wet entrance.

    “Home anymore,” she gasped out as he pushed back in hard.

    “No no no no no,” bit out the violent performer, his hips snapping into her rapidly with each repetition.  Knowing just what she was in for, Cherise could only hope she wouldn’t scream out as she orgasmed.

    “We can't haunt this home,” purred her devious boyfriend and he began to pull out oh so slowly, her legs shaking as she fought to keep her voice steady.

    “Home anymore!” screams out of them both as he slams back home, the feeling of his hot breath on her neck only intensifying what was going on.

    “No no no no no,” the super star hisses as his ships move rapidly on each word once again, leaving her panting as the chorus starts again.

    This cycle repeats four times, both of them barely hanging on by the time the last lines are coming up.  Chest heaving, the showman gives one last delivery as Cherise’s vision fills with white and she cums hard.  She’s dimly aware of him emptying into her as the hand on her hip moves to her waist to give support.  Using this moment to truly gather her senses, the normally rather shy woman took stock of just what happened.  As the music began to wind down, the realization slammed into her while mortification overtook her earlier lust.  Spinning her head to give the celebrity behind her an incredulous look.

    The musician only quirked a shaven brow as his chest heaved and the lights went down.  To him, this was probably a normal occurrence.  “Wh-what was that?!” she mouthed out of nervousness of being picked up by the sensitive sound equipment.

    “The mic’s off until we set up for the next song, you can speak freely.  As for what happened, I couldn’t help myself.  This outfit and what happened earlier...  No one but us will know what was really going on,” came the calm response, his utter neutrality both comforting her as well as slightly pissing her off.

    “Yeah well that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable having sex in front of thousands of your fans, many of which have been lusting after you for years,” she protested, not feeling half as angry as she sounded.  To her horror, she felt as neutral as the goth rocker appeared.

    “After a few of the things we’ve done in public, I have a hard time believing you’re having that big of a problem with what happened.  Besides, its not as if we had graphic sex on stage.  Those people probably think I was just grinding against you like I do Twiggy, John 5 or Tim,” he reasoned, his words making more sense than she cared to believe or even think about.

    Head thudding as he pulled his softened member free of her shorts, she reached behind herself subconsciously to adjust the material.  She really didn’t want to think about how much she had enjoyed that or the fact she had enjoyed their other rather public encounters just as much.  To even think of admitting to herself that she had an exhibitionist streak made her feel more than just ashamed.  She felt almost dirty, some voice inside her telling her that just doing these things was bad enough.  But, somewhere in the far background, there was another voice.  A voice that asked what was so wrong if nothing was ever truly seen by the general public.  So far, doing what they had on stage was a blatant as they had gotten and even that wasn’t truly that bad.  Was it really that wrong to enjoy something that made her feel this good?

    As the band scrambled to set up the set pieces for the next number, Manson was taking her into his arms to press a kiss to her forehead.  “Well, at least they know I’m your girl now,” whispered her tentative voice, a small smile quirking her lips as the rocker chuckled.  Even now, the people watching were calling for him to kiss her or take her top off.  To which she figured she should at least give a response.  Craning up to give her companion a kiss, the ‘Empress’ flipped off the entire crowd; earning instant cheers from the masses.  Even the man kissing her approving, his lips forming into his own smile as he deepened the embrace.

    “So, do you want to come with me for the rest of the tour,” rasped out of him as he broke the lip lock just long enough to utter those words as well as hear the response.

    “If this is just the first day, I _have_ to stick around for the rest of it,” purred her new persona, earning an even rougher kiss as the audience roared with approval.  Then she was pushing away, her cheeks pink as she looked up at the star shyly.

    “I-in fact, I might just h-have to move in with you just so I can continue to be part of the insanity,” whispered the unsure painter, her heart thudding in her chest as mismatched eyes stared down at her.

    A shaking hand comes to cup her face as trepidation shines in the intense orbs locked on her.  This mighty man, a man many are afraid of, almost looks scared himself as he seems to struggle with whatever wants to come out of him.  “Do you... do you really mean that?” whispers his baritone, sounding almost like a child’s voice as tears rim his eyes.

    “Yes Brian, as soon as all this is over I’d like to start the process of moving,” Cherise replied, her red bangs falling slightly in her face as she reached up to cup his face in return.  Manson could only close his eyes, content grin blooming on his face while every muscle in his body seems to relax.

    “Thank you kitten... thank you,” husks out of him as the band finishes set up.  In a flash, his own persona is black in place; a steely look in his formally warm eyes when he signals his minions to start the next song.  Laughing softly, Cherise falls into place beside him and begins to sing.  It would be an interesting few months and she looked forward to every bit of it, feeling more at home next to her idol than she had in years.


End file.
